It was far too early when I left my flat, the yellowish, sodium glow of the streetlights only just breaking through the darkness. I splashed out on an Uber to the police station, even though my overdraft limit was now so close that I could smell it. The station was at the tip of Kilburn High Road, a low, grey concrete box, surrounded by iron railings. I stared at it from the pavement, feeling almost as if I was having an out-of-body experience. That airy feeling in my limbs, that fizzy lightheadedness – it reminded me of the first stirrings of a pill on a messy night out, even though this moment was diametrically opposed to that. I checked myself – I needed to ground. I needed to find the quiet authority that Amber had coached me to project, so that this decision didn’t end up making my life even worse, even more disastrous, than it already was. It had been surprisingly easy to get this far. I’d wondered if they’d react with disbelief, or leave me waiting for hours like in an overstretched A&E. Instead, when I’d simply told them calmly that I wanted to r eport a case of harassment, they’d ushered me through to this comfortable room, all pastel walls and soft furnishings, and found a thoughtful female detective to take a statement. Was this all life really was? An elaborate confidence trick? I felt another surge of rage towards Mum. Why had I been robbed of the ability to believe in myself, to instruct the world to believe in me, for the first thirty-one years of my life? Thank God I had Amber: she’d be so proud if she could see me sitting here, handling all of this. ‘So, take me through it properly, Rachel. I want to make sure we’ve got enough details.’ The detective must’ve seen me unconsciously glance up at the clock. ‘Do you have time?’ ‘I’ve got about half an hour. I’ve got a 9.30 team briefing, and I really can’t miss it.’ Detective Williams smiled approvingly. She looked late forties to me, smart enough but with a comforting air of someone who was more interested in doing a good job than in attracting attention to herself. She was dual heritage, dark hair trapped at the back of her head by a plastic claw, polished beige nails chipped at the edges, as if she hadn’t had time to re-paint them or strip the colour away, and thought the neutral tone was ke eping her secret. ‘Working for the government – no rest for the wicked, eh?’ ‘Exactly!’ I said. I’d made sure to flag my job early, making it clear that I was a responsible member of society, not some druggie flake. ‘So, tell me again about how your parents became suspicious of your relationship with Ms Greville. How it has played out in their treatment of you?’ Their treatment of you – the words felt like nectar. ‘Like I told you, I was definitely struggling with... alcohol.’ I couldn’t bring myself to say drugs out loud, not to a policewoman. ‘And I’m grateful they helped me get treatment: after I collapsed on the street, I was determined to get sober. But the thing I know now, thanks to Amber, is that it was all a symptom. I was trying to blot out anxiety and low self-esteem that I’ve been fighting since I was a teenager, thanks to my parents. And as I started to change, my family couldn’t handle this – this new version of me...’ ‘Right,’ said Detective Williams, looking thoughtful. ‘I’m so much better now. I haven’t had a drink for three months, I’m running a huge infrastructure project at work, I’ve got a wonderful new boyfriend. I don’t know why my parents can’t just be happy for me.’ That statement was so very nearly true – the tiny gap with reality was a gully that pulled me down into a slipstream of sadness. I didn’t let the mask slip.
‘But give me the facts,’ said Williams, her concentration intense. ‘Why, in your opinion, is this harassment?’ Colour rose to my cheeks, my heart beating like a piston in my chest. I needed to pitch this next shot carefully. ‘The fact that I chose not to spend Christmas with them sent Mum over the edge.’ ‘And you spent it with Ms Greville? At her home, or...’ ‘It was a healing retreat.’ A flash of memory. My face, rolling fast towards the carpet as I came off the couch. I felt my body contract with residual shock. ‘It was amazing, it was such a privilege to be a part of it.’ ‘So that frustrated your mother?’ said Williams, her expression hard to read. My gaze surfed her hands again – two bands sat firmly on her wedding finger. Was she imagining her own child rejecting her for the most wonderful time of the year, wondering how I could be that selfish? ‘More than that. When I got home, she’d let herself into my flat. It was terrifying – I thought it was a break-in.’ My voice wobbled a little. ‘I’m a woman living alone. It’s a vulnerable feeling.’ ‘So, she has a key?’ ‘Apparently. I didn’t know that.’ Williams industriously scribbled a note. ‘So, you hadn’t given permission for her to enter your property or hold a key?’ ‘Absolutely not. And then she was verbally abusive, not just to me, but to the two friends I’d brought in for protection. I mean, there was no burglar, but it turned out I needed protection anyway.’ Williams nodded with what looked like sympathy. ‘And how did that night end?’ I took a second to remember the phrase that I’d practised so diligently with Amber. ‘With threats and verbal intimidation. She maligned Amber and her work, and made it clear she was out for revenge.’ Williams took that in. ‘Why do you think she feels so protective towards you around Ms Greville? Is there any logic to her behaviour?’ ‘She’s jealous!’ I said, the words coming out a little too fast, a little too hard. I took a breath. ‘She feels threatened by our relationship, like Amber’s taken me away from her. When the truth is, Amber saved me. I... I’m not sure I’d even be here without her.’ Williams looked slightly unnerved, and I subtly rearranged my expression. I’d been shocked sometimes when I’d seen the look my fellow disciples had when they spoke about her – the one I knew I had, too, but never saw in a mirror. It was lovestruck. ‘So now I need you to be precise about the subsequent events. You say that she’s refusing to leave you alone, so I need you to share all of the text and email exchanges which demonstrate you asking her to desist from contact, and her overriding it.’ ‘Absolutely,’ I said, forcing my voice back to the calm glaze that had impressed her at the start of the interview. ‘I’ve printed off all of the documentary evidence and brought it with me for you.’ It turned out to be the perfect gift to win her over – she reached eagerly for the clear plastic wallet, thumbing swiftly through its contents like it was an airport thriller. ‘I can see that her tone is intimidating, Rachel,’ she said, looking up. She paused, cocked her head. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, has your relationship always been difficult?’ My eyes suddenly filled with hot tears. I scrubbed at them with the dark sleeve of my work jacket, embarrassed. ‘Sorry...’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘Don’t apologize,’ said Williams kindly. ‘Do you want a cup of tea? This is the suite for people r eporting – the nasty stuff – so we’ve got our own kettle.’ She mimed a little cheer. ‘Yay!’ I laughed, grabbing a tissue from the box I’d just spotted on the windowsill.
She was an empirically nice person. ‘Yes, it has always been difficult,’ I said. ‘My parents have quite a toxic relationship, my dad’s not been entirely faithful, and I’ve had to...’ Words defeated me, but I could tell that, in this case, silence really was the louder option. ‘It’s been really hard,’ I said eventually. We sat there for a second, the energy settling. ‘Okay,’ said Williams, looking at the clock and giving another warm smile. ‘We need to get you to work. If you want to fix your face, there’s a bathroom through there. I’ve got enough here that I think I can go for a Section Five.’ She looked at my baffled, streaky face. ‘Sorry, too much jargon. It’s a harassment order. Means your parents can’t come within 250 yards of you – so no more unwanted keys turning in the lock, and she certainly can’t send any more of these frankly nasty emails...’ I took a gulp of air. This was all feeling very real – almost too real. Amber had been so confident, but I realized now that on some level I hadn’t believed the authorities would take me seriously. Would take us seriously. ‘Thank you,’ I said, the tears returning as I thought of Sophie. Would this force her to believe me – to turn up on my doorst ep full of love and apologies – or do the absolute opposite? I couldn’t kid myself it would be the result I wanted and now it was too late to turn back. ‘Don’t cry, Rachel,’ said Williams, handing over a fistful of tissues. ‘You were incredibly brave to come in and do this.’ ‘I don’t feel brave,’ I said through my tears. ‘I feel like a bitch.’ She watched me kindly. ‘They’re your mum and dad. I’m sure you love them, too.’ Now I was sobbing, any vestige of calm having well and truly left the building. Of course I loved them: it wasn’t something you could simply carve out of yourself like a tumour caught early. But I hated them, too, and, unfair as it was, it was her that I reserved the blackest feelings for. How was it possible to feel both emotions so intensely and not crack in two? Williams reached over and handed me another handful of Kleenex. ‘It might not feel like it right now, but the worst is over.’ As if. The pub was in Kennington, books and pictures lining the walls, a blackboard listing chi chi comfort food hung next to the bar. I looked around the room, finding Hannah and Marco huddled in a corner, fingers entwined on a table that was illuminated by a dripping candle. I didn’t have time to start feeling like a gooseberry before Hannah’s arms were wrapped around my body, her wet mouth on my neck. ‘Rachel! Darling Rachel! We’re so happy you’re here!’ The royal we, less than a fortnight in. I wasn’t the only one who was hopeless at playing hard to get. I was happy to see her, though, hugging her back with fierce need. ‘Hey, honey,’ said Marco, unfurling his lithe body from the seat and giving me a double kiss on the cheeks. His smile was comfortingly warm and familiar. I squeezed into the corner nook, grateful for our tiny circle being redrawn. ‘How are you?’ said Hannah, eyes stretched wide with worry. ‘How are you surviving your mum?’ I hesitated for a second, part of me desperate to block out what I’d done today. Every time I thought about it – thought about them opening a letter or taking a call from the police – my stomach dropped earthwards. Had I really done the right thing? When I’d called Amber afterwards she’d been almost celebratory, like it was a birthday with a zero in it, but it was hard for me to feel triumphant. I gave myself a virtual slap, reminding myself how lucky I was to have her. It was a mark of how much she cared about me that she was so proud, so pleased that firm boundaries were finally being built. And
the fact that she was seeing me for free was the most incredible act of love. But then, was it free, or was she deferring the cost? I realized I didn’t really know, and, much like a credit card with a 0% limit that expired in India at some mysterious point in the future, I had no desire to clarify it. ‘You don’t have to talk about it,’ added Hannah, ‘but I got the feeling from Amber it was bad.’ I felt a flicker of betrayal, then pushed it away. We were our own raggle-taggle family now: she obviously wanted me to feel their support outside our prescribed hours together. It was another indication of her love for me. Now I understood why Hannah had been so insistent we meet tonight. ‘Did she tell you...’ Hannah silently nodded, concern etched into her face. She must have seen how sad I looked, because her arms octopus-ed their way back around my shoulders. ‘You’re amazing, Rachel. So amazing. Isn’t she, Marco?’ Marco grinned. ‘You’re a legend, bella!’ ‘You’re taking no shit,’ continued Hannah, gabbling with excitement and pride. ‘No fucks given. You’re telling your family who’s boss. You’re choosing yourself. You’re choosing all of us, and Amber and your brand-new life. It’s going to be amazing. This is just the darkness before the dawn.’ Had Amber told her to employ that phrase to comfort me, like a benign form of group hypnosis, or was it something she trotted out to all her clients as they plumbed the d epths? Another stab of unease that I squashed as quickly as it arose. I leaned into Hannah, thanked her, and found my hand unconsciously reaching towards the wine bottle. Surely today of all days it would be acc eptable to afford myself a little comfort? ‘Stop there, missy!’ said Marco, standing up and playfully slapping my hand away. ‘I’m gonna get you something delicious with no booze in sight.’ Hannah smiled goofily at his retreating back as he loped to the bar. He was wearing slim-fitting sand-coloured chinos, a thin cashmere V-neck slung over the top. They still looked completely incongruous together to me, but no one would appoint me a relationship expert. ‘He’s so amazing, Rachel,’ she said, voice low with awe. ‘I mean, I can’t believe how many gifts Amber’s given me. And it’s not just him – it’s you, too. You’re a precious gift in my life. And we’ve invited Tim as well.’ ‘Great!’ I said, not quite selling the enthusiasm. It wasn’t that I disliked him, it was just that I couldn’t bear to think again about how out of control I’d been at the end of my turn. It had never felt quite right between us since then. ‘Shame he’s gay or else we could double date. Have a double wedding!’ said Hannah, flushed with giggly enthusiasm. With a few days grace, I’d forgotten how simultaneously lovely and exhausting her earnestness was. Was this my reality now? It was a million miles from the witty, cynical girls I was used to sharing a pub table with. Or – or my sister. The sadness was too acute. I needed to distract myself. ‘Can I tell you a secret?’ I said. ‘We have secrets?’ said Hannah, clutching her heart, mock offended. She was wearing a baggy grey sweatshirt with a picture of an el ephant – trunk aloft – on the front. ‘I’ve been seeing a bit of Arthur.’ ‘Arthur, Arthur?’ said Hannah, looking flummoxed. ‘Right.’ I felt a surge of irritation. ‘Yes. Arthur.’ ‘Wow,’ added Hannah, her verbal diarrhoea all cleared up. Now, I could see Marco extravagantly greeting Tim across the room, their faces lit up with pleasure at being reunited. ‘Don’t you like him?’ I said, wanting to finish the conversation before they came over. ‘You know I’ll always support you, Rachel. Whatever you choose to do.’ She spoke as if we’d shared a friendship that had lasted through the ages. It was sweet, I insisted to myself. ‘I suppose – I mean, he’s quite old.’
‘Age is just a number,’ I declared airily. Hannah looked unconvinced. ‘What does Amber think?’ Before I could craft a r eply, the boys were approaching the table, Marco holding a tall purple drink with a sprig of mint poking out. He placed it in front of me ceremonially. ‘For the lady – a cranberry royale. Very exclusive artisanal recipe.’ He was relentlessly fun – I felt like he’d make me laugh in a nuclear apocalypse. Which was lucky, as that was roughly what my life had become by that point. ‘Hey, Rachel,’ said Tim, awkwardly folding his bald head downwards to kiss my cheek. ‘Hi,’ I said, equally awkward. ‘Lovely to see you.’ Hannah had sucked Marco back into the vortex by now, their bodies a tangle of lips and limbs. ‘Likewise,’ said Tim, before both of us ground to a conversational halt. Hannah eventually emerged. ‘Tell us about how real life’s been, Tim,’ she said. ‘Are you coping without us?’ ‘I’m not going to lie, it’s been pretty hardcore coming back,’ he said, smiling ruefully. ‘A week of night shifts in A&E isn’t the ideal way to come off a workshop like that.’ ‘We’re all just so open now, aren’t we?’ enthused Hannah. ‘So sensitive. It’s easy to bruise, but it’s just because we’re so alive to our experience!’ ‘Yeah, I think it did really help me,’ said Tim. ‘I’ve kicked Dan to the kerb, he’s just going to be Dr Rogers from now on.’ His married lover, a thing of the past. More evidence of Amber’s power to change our lives for the better. ‘Good for you!’ I said. ‘How about you, Rachel?’ asked Tim carefully. Hannah’s eyes were trained on me like she was my support animal. I took a second to r eply. ‘Oh I’m... it’s been pretty bad with my parents to be honest.’ I waved a dismissive hand. ‘It’s got legal. I’ll be okay.’ ‘She’s been really brave,’ intoned Hannah. I gave a brief smile, my guts churning. I wished I could find a way to align how I felt inside with all of their cheerleading. I glanced down at my phone, balanced face upwards in my bag. Nothing from Sophie, even though I’d texted her twice today. I needed to reach her before the news broke. ‘Let’s talk about something else,’ I said, taking a big gulp of my purple drink. ‘Marco, you should be a sobriety coach!’ ‘My true calling!’ he said, grinning, and the conversation mercifully moved on. We somehow stayed until closing time, although a late night was the last thing I needed, what with Duncan’s beady eyes trained on me every second at work. The truth was, I didn’t want to go back to my empty flat and I didn’t have the energy to turn up on Arthur’s doorst ep and fake ‘cool girl, no commitment necessary’ vibes. Eventually we were all on the pavement, goodbyes reluctantly being said. They were warm and sweet, and I was glad for all of them in that moment, grateful to Amber for bringing us together. ‘You’re going north, correct?’ said Tim. ‘Do you want to share a cab?’ I couldn’t afford one. And in that moment I realized I also didn’t want to: I was wary still. ‘Thanks, but I’m just going to take the tube,’ I said. ‘I need to read something for work.’ Lying was my second language, and I was most definitely bilingual. Perhaps I still am. ‘Let me walk you to the tube, at least,’ he said. ‘It’s late.’ ‘Thanks,’ I said reluctantly. I turned to finish my goodbyes. ‘Are you going home, home?’ whispered Hannah after I’d hugged Marco, and I nodded my assent. ‘Call you tomorrow,’ she said, conspiratorial, and released me into the night. Tim and I walked a hundred yards in silence, the awkwardness returning now we were alone. There weren’t many people around, so we lacked for convenient distractions.
‘I’m glad you’re doing so well,’ I ventured. ‘Thanks,’ he said, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his long wool coat. Silence settled like snow, but then he sw ept it aside. ‘I wanted to talk to you actually.’ ‘Right,’ I said. The tube was only three minutes or so away now. I could get through this. ‘I’ve been thinking about it – medically – what I saw. You know, cold light of day and all that.’ He was so fucking doctor-ly, like a visiting physician in a black-and-white film. ‘We don’t need to talk about it,’ I protested. He turned to look at me, his serious expression spotlighted by a streetlamp. ‘Please, just hear me out. I know you’re working with Amber because you’ve had problems with addiction, and if you’d taken something to take the edge off the anxiety, I get it. It was scary for all of us to go that de ep with our traumas.’ ‘Of course I didn’t,’ I snapped. This new family was turning out to be exactly like my real family, judging and mistrusting me. ‘I wouldn’t come to a healing retreat and then get fucked up on drugs.’ ‘Rachel, please...’ said Tim, his hands held up in surrender. ‘I’m not trying to insult you. I know how that probably sounded. I’m just worried.’ ‘Why do you ke ep going on about this?’ I said, pulling ahead of him, my head dropping against the cold and his continued assault. ‘Because if you didn’t take it, who gave it to you?’ ‘What?’ ‘That wasn’t just reiki, or the power of the emotional release. You were on something.’ He had good enough manners to look embarrassed. ‘I could see there was something building up with you and Arthur. You don’t think he’d have done that to you, do you? I know it sounds crazy but – I care about you, Rachel. You’re vulnerable.’ My heart was pounding in my chest. The illuminated sign outside Stockwell tube was yards away from us now. I took off, half running. ‘Goodnight, Tim,’ I shouted behind me. I whacked a credit card down on the barrier and threw myself onto a Northern Line train, music pounding through my headphones. That night I had my first drink.